


And Other Lesser Artists

by silver_etoile



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Art Student!Filippo, M/M, Nude Modeling, future fic college
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 11:37:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18281801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_etoile/pseuds/silver_etoile
Summary: There's something familiar about the nude model in Filippo's sketch class. What's less familiar is the way Elia is so blatantly flirting with him and whether or not Filippo will give in to it.





	And Other Lesser Artists

**Author's Note:**

> Been working on this since like November. but yay it's done!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://azozzoni.tumblr.com).

The guy in the robe looked strangely familiar, Filippo thought as he took his seat in the circle of easels set up around the stool in the middle of the classroom. Filippo was less concerned with the guy talking with the professor and more with the fact that he had been unable to avoid this class even after two years of university.

Filippo studied art: photography, painting, sculpture. He didn’t draw. But somehow the university thought everyone needed a basis in sketching, so Filippo sighed to himself as he pulled out his pencils and dropped his bag on the floor.

He’d survived sketching pieces of fruit so far, learning shading and shapes, growing to hate the sight of apples. But now, they were moving on to the human form.

As the professor moved to the middle of the room to address the class, Filippo turned his attention to the dark-haired guy in the robe, eyes skating over his face--dark eyes, full lips, a ring in his ear. There was something very familiar about him, but it wasn’t until the guy caught his gaze and flashed him a smile, as if they knew each other, that it hit him.

Filippo couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Elia. Most of the time, when Filippo hung out with Martino, it was with him alone or him and Nico, rarely with all of Martino’s friends. And now that Martino had gone off to university with Niccolò in Milan, Filippo saw him even less.

Filippo didn’t get the chance to talk to Elia as the professor gestured him forward, and Elia dropped the robe without a lick of self-consciousness. 

For once, Filippo was glad when Elia settled on the stool to his side, facing the door and not Filippo. A naked man wasn’t something Filippo usually shied away from, but when he looked at Elia, all he could remember was the loud, slightly obnoxious boy from Martino’s parties. He didn’t need to see what else Elia had to offer.

The hour passed in relative silence aside from pencils scratching on paper and the professor making occasional comments.

“Pay attention to the shadows,” the professor said as he stood over Filippo’s shoulder, inspecting his start. Filippo wouldn’t call it a great drawing. He seemed to have trouble following curves, as if his hand couldn’t mimic what his eyes saw.

Filippo wondered if it was too late to change his course of study as class ended and everyone packed up to leave. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised when Elia approached him, the robe thankfully back on, a smile on his face.

“Ciao,” Elia greeted him easily, as if they were actually friends and not mere acquaintances. “I didn’t know you were in this class.”

Filippo raised an eyebrow as he tucked his pencils away. “I didn’t know you were so eager to get your clothes off.”

Elia laughed and shrugged. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. Anything for a job, right?”

Filippo didn’t reply, closing the sketchpad and grabbing his bag. He had never supposed he would see Elia naked, and the gap in Elia’s robe wasn’t doing his brain any favors, exposing his collarbone and making Filippo wish Elia _had been_ facing him.

Clearly it had been too long since he’d gotten some, Filippo thought as he shook the thought away.

“Do I get a peek?” Elia asked as Filippo grabbed his book and tucked it under his arm. He didn’t have another class to get to, but he wasn’t sure he and Elia had anything to talk about. They never had before.

“No,” Filippo said simply, despite Elia’s head tilt. “It’s nowhere near ready.”

“Come on,” Elia said, eyes widening. “I have to make sure I’m being properly represented.”

Filippo caught himself smiling at that, shaking his head. “I don’t embellish.”

“You shouldn’t have to where I’m concerned,” Elia replied, a quirk to the corner of his mouth, and Filippo frowned for a second. Wasn’t he straight? But this felt an awful lot like flirting, and Filippo would know. He was very good at flirting.

“Shouldn’t you be getting your clothes on?” Filippo asked as the door to the classroom opened and new people began filtering in.

Elia didn’t glance around at the people coming in, though a few of the girls certainly seemed to eye him as they passed.

“I suppose,” he said at length, jerking his shoulders. “Guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

Filippo watched Elia leave, grabbing a duffle bag from by the door and disappearing into the hall. Shaking his head, he grabbed his things, giving Elia a minute head start before following. At least Elia didn’t get to speak while modeling, he thought as he left the classroom. He wasn’t sure if Elia could stop himself from flirting with everyone he saw, Filippo included.

*

_Whatever happened to that friend of yours. Elia?_

Filippo sent the text to Marti, flopping on the couch and reaching for the remote. He wasn’t sure why he cared or why he couldn’t get the image of Elia smirking at him wearing only a white fluffy robe out of his mind.

_He’s still in Rome_ , Martino sent back a few minutes later as Filippo flipped through the channels. _Studying at Sapienza._

Filippo sat back. That did help explain why Elia was modeling for random art classes, though it didn’t explain why Elia had been so clearly flirting with him. Maybe hanging around Martino had turned him gay after all.

The couch was squishy underneath him, long-worn by too many people piling on top of it. Eleonora wasn’t home at the moment, and Filippo was glad. He didn’t need her to over-analyze any questions he might have asked her about Elia. He didn’t have any questions.

As Filippo settled on a movie playing, his phone chimed again.

_Why?_

Why, Filippo thought. Why did he care about Elia? Elia had always been Martino’s slightly annoying friend, constantly talking about girls he wanted to sleep with, concerned with where the weed was and if there was enough beer. Filippo hadn’t paid much attention to him when Martino had still been in high school.

_Thought I saw him on campus,_ he wrote back finally, leaving it at that. It was true, after all. He just didn’t mention he’d seen Elia naked.

Well, he thought as he settled on the couch, he’d seen plenty of naked guys in his time. Elia was just one more.

*

Somehow, Filippo wasn’t surprised when Elia grinned at him when he showed up to the next class, taking his usual stool and setting up his sketchbook, flipping open to the half-done sketch of Elia.

He was glad he’d shown up only a few minutes before class, though, so Elia didn’t get the chance to talk to him. Filippo wasn’t sure why he was avoiding Elia, especially when Elia dropped his robe and climbed onto the platform.

Last time, Filippo had been focused on getting the curves right, on following only the outlines, but now as the class went silent, pencils scratching on paper, he let his gaze fall over Elia more carefully.

From the side, he couldn’t see anything too exposed, and he was almost glad for it, eyes falling over Elia’s soft, pouted lips, his thick hair, the bend in his nose. Elia sat tall on the stool, skin smooth, shoulders broad, lines of muscles running down his back to the curve of his ass, strong thighs.

For a second, Filippo actually caught himself really looking at Elia, lingering on the beauty mark on his side. He wasn’t supposed to be admiring. He was supposed to be sketching.

Admiring wasn’t what he would call it anyway, he told himself firmly as he tried to concentrate on his drawing, on the angles of Elia’s shoulders, the way his hair curled around his ear, the glint of the light on his earring. It was starting to look like a real person on the page, and Filippo felt a tiny rush of pride at the thought.

He wouldn’t call himself a great sketch artist, so if he made it through this class, it would be a miracle.

The hour slipped past quicker than Filippo noticed, shading in the muscles on Elia’s back as the professor finally broke the silence of the room and conversation broke out finally as everyone packed up.

This time, Filippo was ready for Elia to grab his robe off the floor and swing it on as he headed his way. Filippo flipped over the sketchbook cover quickly as Elia stepped up to him.

“I could feel you watching,” Elia said, a glint in his eye that Filippo wondered at.

“Yeah, it’s a sketch class. That’s sort of what you’re supposed to do,” he said, packing away his pencils.

“But did you like the view?” Elia asked, smirking as he set his elbow on the easel, as if he was cooler than he was.

Filippo just remembered the guy who had spent an entire party hitting on a girl who left with someone else at the end. It was almost funny, and Filippo found himself smiling despite himself.

“What are you doing, Elia?” he asked after a minute. He couldn’t quite figure it out, this new flirtation, something he’d only ever seen Elia do with poor high school girls who were clearly not interested in his particular brand of charisma.

Taking a breath, Elia stuck his hands in the pockets of the robe as the last person from class left the room, leaving them alone, light streaming in through the windows, falling in a slat across Elia’s neck. “Thought you’d recognize flirting.”

It didn’t make any sense was the problem as Filippo frowned at Elia, at the way he stood in front of him, practically naked but for a robe.

“Since when are you interested in me, a guy?” he asked, skeptical. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen Elia before this, but here Elia was, eyes drifting down him, rocking back and forth on his toes, as if this was nothing new.

Elia seemed to consider the question for a moment, not flustered or embarrassed. “Since the pink hair,” he said finally, and Filippo stared at him.

That had been over a year ago, and the pink hair was long gone by now. He’d shaved it off and now that it had grown back, his natural dark brown, he hadn’t bothered to dye it. Had Elia even seen him with it? He couldn’t remember.

“What are you saying?” he asked because it couldn’t be what he was thinking, that Elia liked him, that Elia really was into guys and not just flirting because he didn’t know how to stop.

Tilting his head to the side, Elia smiled. “I’m saying you’ve already seen me naked.” He shrugged and Filippo laughed despite himself.

“Trust me, I wasn’t looking,” he assured him, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. Except that maybe he had snuck a peak when Elia had dropped the robe this time, just a tiny millisecond of a glance. It hardly mattered.

“Why not? Don’t you think I’m hot?”

“You’re cute,” Filippo admitted, flippant, passing Elia as he headed for the door. Elia didn’t hesitate to follow him, still in his robe, bare feet on the floor.

“Cute?” Elia repeated, voice filled with disbelief, insulted. “Cute is what you call a puppy.”

Elia was kind of like a puppy, Filippo thought as he paused at the classroom door. Loud and rambunctious but still cute in that way that made him smile when it did stupid things like trip over its own feet.

“Well, it’s a start,” Elia dismissed him easily, as though it wasn’t important what Filippo called him, stepping up to him and lifting his chin slightly. Filippo wouldn’t admit that it had been a long time since a guy had done this to him, gotten into his space in a clear invitation, and even though it was Elia, there was still something intriguing about it. “How about I help you finish your drawing and impress your professor?”

“The light won’t be the same somewhere else,” Filippo replied, leaning into Elia, challenging him slightly, but Elia didn’t move back. Maybe Elia really was into this. Maybe he wasn’t just being an idiot, baiting the gay guy like some people thought was hilarious to do.

“I’m sure we could make it work,” Elia said, shrugging, mouth curled into a smirk as he blinked at Filippo.

Filippo wasn’t sure what he was doing, why he was even standing here with Elia. He wasn’t interested in Elia, despite the fact that he had a bright smile, sharp collar bones underneath that robe that made Filippo think of dark rooms and roaming hands, a gasp in his ear.

Shaking himself, he took a step back from Elia. “I’ll see you in class,” he said finally, leaving Elia in the classroom. He didn’t admit to hurrying a bit, annoyed that he was even thinking of it. Why? Because it was Elia, Martino’s friend, a guy he only remembered as a complete idiot. It didn’t matter that Elia had somehow become attractive.

*

Slumped on the couch, Filippo scrolled through his Instagram feed, boredly liking photos from his friends. He paused on a picture Martino had uploaded earlier, one of him and Nico in front of some fountain, arms around each other, still as disgustingly in love as ever, and it made Filippo smile.

He left an eggplant emoji comment underneath the photo, but before he scrolled on, he had a thought. It was a stupid thought, and not one he should follow through on, but his finger tapped before he could stop it, bringing up Martino’s profile.

Martino didn’t follow very many people, and it was easy enough to pick out Elia’s account from the people he did follow. As Filippo had suspected, it wasn’t private, filled with pictures of mostly his friends and food, but every so often, there was a picture not entirely appropriate for public consumption, and that was what Filippo frowned at as he lingered on one of Elia, shirtless, posing with his hand pressed down his stomach, drawing Filippo’s eyes down.

“What are you looking at?”

Filippo didn’t jerk the phone away as Eleonora flopped down beside him, shoving him over and curling up into the corner.

“Nothing,” he replied, knowing full well she wouldn’t buy that. It just depended if she was bored or not if she would pry.

“Nothing looks a lot like Elia Santini,” she said, pulling out her own phone and responding to a text. “Why are you stalking Elia online? You know Marti would give you his number.”

Frowning, Filippo turned to her. She wasn’t even looking at him, absorbed in her phone. “Why would I want his number?”

She shrugged. “So you could fuck him.”

“Ele,” Filippo said, shaking his head. She’d been hanging around him too long. Since birth, really. There wasn’t any point in arguing even if it wasn’t true. She knew him better than anyone. “I don’t sleep with straight guys.”

She finally looked up, a skeptical eyebrow rising. “Even if that were true, it wouldn’t make a difference. Who said Elia was straight?”

Caught off-guard, Filippo frowned at Eleonora and the way she went back to her phone as if she’d said nothing strange.

“Who said he wasn’t?” he asked instead. He was pretty sure he would know something like that. Martino would have told him. If nothing else, Filippo was usually pretty good at picking people out.

“The guy he blew at the graduation party last year,” Eleonora replied, as simply as if it was public knowledge.

Filippo didn’t know why he cared. He shouldn’t have cared about Elia’s sexuality or even be asking. But that meant Elia really had come on to him the other day, hadn’t just been joking.

That meant Filippo could bring up the shirtless pic on Instagram without feeling like an idiot, so he did. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen already, with Elia sitting completely naked on a stool before him in class, but this was different. This was Elia staring into the camera, a smirk on his face as though he knew whoever was looking at this was not simply thinking of taking him out for gelato.

Eleonora glanced over at him, rolling her eyes. “I can get you his number.”

“I don’t need it,” Filippo replied, tucking the phone away and ignoring her doubtful face. He knew exactly where he’d see Elia next; he just wasn’t sure what he’d do when he did.

There was no shortage of guys to hook up with if you knew where to look, and Filippo did. He knew the clubs, the bars, even the dark streets where you could find someone if you really wanted. That wasn’t the problem even if it had been a couple months since Filippo had been interested in someone for more than a blowjob in the bathroom.

What was the problem? he asked himself as he sat on the worn couch, staring at the books piled up on the floor around the television. Some were his and some were Ele’s. At this point, he couldn’t tell which was which. That Elia was Martino’s friend? He hadn’t known much about Elia really, had only met him a couple times over the past two years. Was it that Elia younger than him? One blowjob at a party did not a gay guy make.

He was thinking too much about this, Filippo decided, kicking off his shoes and setting his feet on the coffee table, reaching for the remote.

“Did you get a pedicure?” Eleonora asked after a second, and Filippo shrugged.

“Just because you don’t believe in self-beautifying doesn’t mean I have to be subjected to ugly feet,” he replied, flipping on the TV and ignoring the way she rolled her eyes in response.

*

Filippo stared at Elia’s back, the tiny cluster of moles on his right shoulder. They hadn’t made it onto his paper yet and this was his last chance to perfect his drawing before turning it in. The clock above the door ticked loudly, over the scratching of pencils, the occasional footstep of the professor as he moved around the circle examining the sketches.

He wasn’t focused on completing his sketch, getting the shading just right, the highlights on Elia’s skin, sunlight falling through the tall, high windows on the outside wall. He was more distracted today by the little details—the way Elia’s ear piercing caught the light, the curve of his throat over his Adam’s apple, the way his fingers were pressed to his thigh today, as though he was eager to get this done.

Filippo felt the same, an impatience he couldn’t shake as he tried to concentrate. For once, it was unrelated to the impatience he usually felt when coming to this class, the need for it to be over as soon as possible so he could go back to doing things he actually enjoyed, like photography.

“Time to finish up,” the professor said, jolting Filippo out of his thoughts. “You’ve got a few days to clean things up before they’re due on Monday.”

Filippo kept an eye on Elia as his classmates packed up, noting the way he pulled on his robe, slowly, not glancing over at Filo. Moving quickly, Filippo tucked the sketchbook under his arm and swung his bag over his shoulder. This was his chance, his chance to leave Elia and whatever might happen behind, but Filippo wasn’t sure he wanted to.

He wasn’t surprised when Elia didn’t leave with everyone else, picking through his bag and glancing up when Filippo stepped up to him, a smile on his face.

“You’re almost rid of me,” Elia said easily, pulling out a pair of jeans. He didn’t seem to have any qualms about dropping the robe as Filippo stood there.

Filippo didn’t look down as Elia pulled on his jeans, keeping Elia’s gaze the whole time, and he wanted to laugh at how brazen Elia was, how confident considering they barely knew each other. 

“Almost,” he said at length as Elia hopped a little, zipping up his jeans, pulling out a shirt next.

“So do I get to see your masterpiece before you turn it in?” Elia asked as he got the shirt over his head, mussing his hair.

“I still need to work on some of the details,” Filippo said, and Elia paused in pulling on his socks, glancing up.

“Which details?”

Filippo paused a second. Was he really going to do this? There’d be no going back, no taking it back if he did. Elia was watching him now, straightened up, standing before him in his soft henley shirt, buttons half undone at the neck exposing his collar bone, sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

It made Filippo think of hands sliding underneath the fabric, along smooth, warm skin, pulling Elia in close and breathing in his cologne. The thought surprised him, the abruptness of it, a sudden desire to give in to the way Elia had been flirting with him all this time. Jesus, he needed to get laid before he became a sentimental mess.

“These freckles,” he said finally, fingers brushing over the few freckles on Elia’s forehead. “You know you have more on your back?”

Elia’s smile was slow as he nodded. “I’ve been told.”

“You also have a dimple,” Filippo said, stepping into Elia’s space, and Elia didn’t move, eyes flicking up, “on your back, right above your ass.”

“Do you need a closer look?” Elia asked. “For your sketch?”

Filippo shrugged, catching the way Elia’s eyes darted down for a second, the tiny inhale he took. Maybe Filippo had underestimated him, got it into his head that Elia was still the dumb, goofy kid he’d met two years ago, hanging all over everyone, telling anyone who would listen how he was going to date a hot girl someday. But here he was, flirting with Filo, practically offering to get naked for him.

“Couldn’t hurt,” he said slowly, tilting his head to the side as Elia watched him. “I don’t really want to fail this class.”

“Right, yeah, that would be bad,” Elia agreed. “I wouldn’t want you to fail because of me.”

Filippo almost smiled, nodding at Elia instead. “Give me your phone.”

Elia only fumbled a little as he pulled it from his pocket and handed it over, eyes flicking between Filippo and the screen as Filippo added himself to Elia’s contacts, putting in his address and handing it back.

“Come over tonight, after six. Ele’s going out.”

“Okay,” Elia said quickly, tucking the phone in his back pocket, and Filippo stepped away. “I’ll see you then.”

Filippo didn’t reply, leaving Elia in the classroom. Maybe this wasn’t a bad idea after all. At least, he hoped it wasn’t.

*

Elia was prompt, which shouldn’t have surprised Filippo, but it did and he allowed himself an amused smile as he let Elia into the apartment.

“You didn’t show up in your robe,” he said, shutting the door behind Elia and stepping into the living room. 

Elia turned to face him, arching an eyebrow. “Disappointed?”

Filippo shrugged, not missing the way Elia’s eyes followed him around the coffee table. He’d been trying not to think too hard about what this was, what this might be. No one had ever accused him of thinking too hard about who he slept with, but Elia was different than the usual stranger in a club.

“Just figured you’d want to get naked as soon as possible,” he said, and Elia’s mouth curled into a smile as he shrugged off his jacket.

“I’m down for whatever,” Elia said, dropping his jacket over the back of the chair and slipping his shoes off. “If it helps your art career.”

Filippo laughed this time, shaking his head as he sat down on the couch, pulling his sketchbook to him and allowing himself a brief glance as Elia pulled off his shirt. “My art career certainly won’t be in drawing.”

“Still,” Elia said, unzipping his jeans and catching Filippo’s eye as he paused. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Noble,” Filippo commented as Elia shoved his jeans down, stepping out of them and standing before him in only his boxers.

Up close, he had more freckles across his collarbone, a scar on his knee, dark hair trailing under his waistband, and Elia licked his lips as he stood there. For a second, Filippo didn’t say anything, taking him in, letting his eyes trail over the details of Elia’s body he hadn’t bothered to consider before, at least consider _this_ way. He’d seen the lines, the curves of Elia’s shoulders, the fullness of his lips, the softness of his eyes, but he hadn’t considered how he felt about it.

There was no denying that Elia was attractive--a little goofy maybe but he seemed to be taking this seriously, this pursuit or whatever it was.

“Where do you want me?” Elia asked finally, breaking the silence, dark eyes resting on Filippo, as if daring him to say, ‘the bedroom’ or ‘right here on this couch,’ but Filippo didn’t.

“Come sit on the coffee table so I can get a good look,” he said instead, clearing aside Ele’s scattered books and magazines so Elia could sit down, still in his boxers, shoulders hunching slightly as he sat.

“Do I get to see?” Elia asked, stretching up to see the sketch Filippo yanked up.

“Are you always so impatient?”

“Have to make sure the proportions are right.” Elia shrugged, setting his hands in his lap and sitting back.

Holding the sketchbook away from Elia’s prying eyes, Filippo shook his head. He wasn’t sure how much better his drawing was going to get even with the details of Elia’s face. It was all a game, he thought as he shaded in a bit of Elia’s neck. Just a push and pull that one of them would eventually break. A pretense.

“Don’t worry,” Filippo said, glancing up, catching Elia watching him intently. “I don’t embellish.”

“You don’t have to,” Elia replied easily, and Filippo wondered if he’d always been this confident. He just remembered Martino’s idiot friend chasing after girls who would never be interested. He supposed that was a kind of confidence in itself.

“Have you always been an exhibitionist?” Filippo asked as he drew in the freckles on Elia’s cheeks, the lines at his eyes when he smiled. “Or is it just for me?”

Elia grinned, tongue peeking between his teeth. “I’ll do almost anything for fifty euros a session. But I’ll do a lot more for you.”

Pausing, Filippo lowered the sketchbook, contemplating Elia for a moment, the way Elia sat before him, a lock of hair falling in his eye. Filippo pushed aside the urge to brush it away, to reach for Elia and pull him in, to break the tension between them. Not that he didn’t want to. Not that he wasn’t thinking of what Elia would do if he let down that barrier.

Normally, Filippo didn’t think so much with guys, inviting them back to his place, kicking them out afterward. But normally, the guys weren’t Elia Santini. He wasn’t sure what the difference was, between Elia and those other guys, but he felt it, somewhere deep in his gut, that this wouldn’t just be a quick fuck.

“Elia,” he said after a second, and Elia blinked at him, shifting over on the table so that their knees touched.

“Filo,” he echoed, tilting his head to the side. He reached for Filippo’s sketchbook, tugging it gently from Filippo’s hands, and he let him, watched Elia set it aside, not even bothering to sneak a peek at the drawing. 

Fuck it, Filippo thought as his lips curled into a smile at Elia, gaze flicking down to his mouth. This was going to happen. There was no denying it at this point. He might as well give in to the growing tension between them, the way Elia licked his lips, their knees pressed together.

Filippo moved first--he had to--curling a hand around the back of Elia’s neck and yanking him forward, their mouths meeting in a hot, heedy kiss that made Filippo wonder why he’d waited so long to do it. Elia was fucking good at this, had soft, smooth lips, knew where to slide his tongue, how to suck on Filippo’s bottom lip and shift into him.

Elia climbed onto Filippo’s lap easily, pliable and willing, hands on his shoulders, biting down on Filippo’s lip ring as he exhaled. “Finally,” he breathed, the words lost in the way he kissed Filo again, pressed closer, and Filippo closed his eyes against the warmth of Elia’s body, the easy way they fit together, his fingers gliding over Elia’s bare back. “I’ve been hitting on you since day one. What took you so long?”

Filippo almost laughed at the question, pulling Elia’s hips down, a heavy warm weight on top of him. He spread his legs to let Elia settle in between them, pushing up into him, hearing Elia’s sharp breath. Elia’s fingers dug into his shoulder blades for a second before sliding down and tugging at the hem of his shirt.

This shirt came off and Filippo reached for Elia’s face, pulling his mouth back. Heat rose on his skin, heart pumping as he got his hands on Elia’s hips, felt the way Elia pushed down, the length of his dick hard in his boxers, not enough pressure at this angle, and Filippo spread his legs wider for Elia to grind down against him.

He could feel the desperation, the want, in Elia’s kisses, the slide of Elia’s tongue in his mouth. He had to break the kiss for air as Elia’s hands landed on his pants, slipping the button undone and shoving the zipper down.

“Is this how you want to get off?” Filippo asked as Elia’s hips pushed down again, a rush of heat in his cock even through the layers of fabric. He hadn’t gotten off like this since he was a teenager, horny and desperate for any kind of sex he could get at that age. 

Elia’s breath was hot on his neck as they their hips moved together, not quite enough friction to get off, but it made Filippo take a breath, lick his lips, twine his hand in Elia’s hair and consider letting Elia try, see how long it might take, if he could delay things until he was shaking with need. He wondered if Elia would be into that.

“Mmm, I want to do _everything_ ,” Elia said finally, mouthing down Filippo’s neck, fingers tight on the back of his neck, and Filippo swallowed at the dig of fingernails in his skin. He liked things a little rough, and apparently Elia did too if the way he groaned when Filippo squeezed his cock through the fabric a little too hard was any indication.

Exhaling slowly, Filippo hooked his hands under Elia’s bare thighs, tugging him up so their cocks aligned, hard and hot. Any hesitation he’d had vanished with Elia’s mouth on his, chasing his tongue, whining when Filippo broke away to breath words against his lips. “I don’t magically have a condom in the couch.”

He felt more than saw Elia’s smile, his tiny huff against his lips, like he didn’t want to move from his spot pressed to Filippo, blood pulsing in their dicks pressed together.

“Where are they?” he asked after a second, and Filippo watched the way he swallowed, eyes grazing up the lines of his throat, a blank expanse of skin he could mark up.

“Bedroom table, top drawer,” he said, almost regretting it as Elia shifted back, the warmth disappearing from his lap as Elia hurried down the hall.

Shoving his jeans off, Filippo got the rest of his clothes off, lounging on the couch as he waited for Elia to return. He knew what he looked like with the colorful tattoo splashed across the right side of his chest, legs spread wide in an invitation. He was hard now, eager at the thought of fucking Elia, of seeing this confident, cocky kid fall apart on top of him, beg for more.

“Why don’t you have a door?” Elia emerged from the hall, a shiny condom package in his hand, stopping as he caught sight of Filippo on the couch, and Filippo smiled as he watched Elia’s gaze slide down his body.

“You’re not the only exhibitionist around here.”

“I see that,” Elia replied after a second, and the game was over as Elia slid his boxers over his hips, stepping out of them as he approached Filippo, climbing back on top of him with no hesitation and leaning in to kiss him.

Filippo didn’t have time for careful, plucking the condom from Elia’s hand and sucking on his tongue, pushing a hand into Elia’s hair, tugging him back from his mouth, catching the way Elia’s lips parted, breath hot on his chin.

“Have you done this before?” he asked, ripping the wrapper open and taking the condom out.

“Fuck, Filo,” Elia breathed, hands trailing down his chest. “I’m not a virgin.”

“I meant with a guy,” Filippo said, rolling his eyes and surprised when Elia stole the condom from him, reaching for his cock and stroking slowly, never breaking eye contact, and Filippo had to admit he was impressed. He hadn’t thought Elia could do that. To be honest, he hadn’t thought much about Elia before a couple weeks ago. Now, he was only thinking of Elia, Elia’s hand around his dick, rolling the condom on and shifting up.

“Someday I’ll tell you all the things I’ve done with guys,” Elia said, flipping open the lube he’d brought with him from the bedroom. He said it like this wasn’t going to be a one time thing, and Filippo’s heart contracted just for a second. He’d figured as much, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about it quite yet. He barely knew Elia.

Shaking away the feeling, he concentrated instead on Elia rising on his knees, lube slick on Filippo’s cock, on Elia’s fingers as he fucked himself, as if maybe he did do this more often than Filippo had suspected. Maybe he’d gotten it all wrong when it came to Elia--a guy who wasn’t afraid to go after what he wanted.

“Up,” Filippo said, urging Elia closer, a hand on his lower back, Elia’s skin hot to the touch, and Elia went willingly. 

Elia’s body was hot, tight around Filippo as Elia slid down on his cock, didn’t hesitate for a second to sink down. Elia’s mouth fell open, and Filippo bit back the heat rising from his stomach, spreading over his skin, tingling as he felt Elia’s muscles squeezing. Fuck, he wanted this, he realized, closing his eyes and focusing on the weight of Elia on top of him, the throb in his cock.

“Fuck,” Elia cursed, reaching for Filippo’s shoulders, grounding himself as he picked back up, moving slowly on top of Filippo.

It happened fast, a rush of bodies moving together, panted breath in the empty apartment, Elia’s skin beading with sweat as Filippo pushed into him. Filippo’s stomach clenched with every moan of Elia’s, blood throbbing in his cock, so close to coming. It was hot exhales against skin, the ghost of Elia’s tongue in his mouth, Elia clutching Filippo’s side, fingernails leaving angry red crescents in the skin.

“Shit, Filo, I’m gonna come,” Elia gasped into Filippo’s shoulder, gasping as Filippo rolled his hips up, pressing deep inside Elia until he could feel the tremble in Elia’s body, his cock pulsing against his stomach, smeared with pre-cum.

He liked Elia like this, back arched, eyes closed, mouth falling open. He liked Elia’s fingers curling around the back of his neck as he moved with Filippo, harder and faster, the pressure building deep in Filippo’s core. He liked the way Elia groaned when Filippo’s hand wrapped around his cock and stroked, leaned into him until he could feel Elia’s heart thudding in his chest, feel the sweat along his hairline as Filippo swept his free hand through the locks and let Elia kiss him as he came.

“Fuck.” Elia sighed, pulling away, breathing heavy against Filippo’s neck. “Don’t let anybody tell you you’re not artist because that was fucking beautiful.”

Laughing, Filippo shoved Elia back, acutely aware that Elia was still sitting on his very hard dick, and Elia seemed to know it too as he shifted, meeting Filippo’s eyes. “What do you know about art?”

Elia moved carefully, off of Filippo, peeling the condom off and tossing it on the table. Filippo didn’t even care that Eleonora would probably find it later and give him hell. He didn’t care because Elia’s hand was on his cock and Elia was smirking at him as he leaned in.

“I know I can make you see stars,” he replied, and Filippo scoffed even as Elia’s mouth slid over his cock and he closed his eyes, letting his body take over.

It may not have been stars, but it was fucking good, and Filippo let out a breath as his stomach tightened and he came with Elia’s name on his lips. He opened his eyes as Elia sat back, wiping his mouth and grinning at Filippo, as if proud of himself.

“Worth the wait,” Elia said as Filippo let his head fall back against the couch and he didn’t roll his eyes. 

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure what there was to say. He didn’t look over until he heard the rustle of paper and found Elia inspecting his portrait.

“It’s pretty good,” Elia said finally, settling cross-legged on the couch, still totally naked, as if he had no shame, and Filippo fought back his smile. He’d never met anyone quite like Elia.

“It’s not done,” Filippo said, and Elia glanced at him, fingers trailing over the curve of his own back on the paper. “I need to make your head a little bigger.”

“Asshole,” Elia said, smacking Filippo with the sketchpad, and Filippo tugged it from his grip. “I’m confident, not cocky.”

“You’re both,” Filippo allowed, pushing himself up, setting the pad aside. 

“It gets me what I want.” Elia shrugged, watching him.

“Me?” Filippo asked even though he knew the answer. It had been obvious since that first day Elia had shown up in class and dropped the robe. Even if Filippo hadn’t wanted to see it.

“You were the one who made me realize maybe I liked guys too,” Elia admitted after a minute. “The first time I saw you with the pink hair, it was like a lightning bolt. I had to jerk off in the shower later.” He smiled slightly, and Filippo wasn’t sure what to think. “But you barely noticed me then. So when I saw you in the class, I knew I had to take my shot.”

Filippo shook his head after a second, trying to process all this. “You know I’m not some fairytale prince, right? I don’t know shit about relationships and I’m even worse at being in them.”

“You always gave Marti good advice.”

Filippo shrugged, reaching for his boxers on the floor and pulling them on. He’d been worried about this, about what happened after, about what kind of hopes he was stoking in Elia by saying yes.

“Those who can’t do, give advice.” He glanced at Elia, who didn’t look impressed.

“That’s such bullshit,” Elia said simply. “I’m not asking you to marry me. The sex was good, right?”

He probably shouldn’t have admitted it, but Filippo shrugged. “Sure.” There was no point in denying it. They both knew it.

“Okay,” Elia said, cocking his head to the side. “So if I text you in a few days and ask you out for coffee, all you have to do is say yes and show up. Not that hard.”

“Elia,” Filippo started, to argue or come up with some excuse why he couldn’t date him, why he couldn’t wake up next to Elia next time, or why this was a terrible idea in the first place, but Elia stopped him, a finger over his mouth. Filippo raised an eyebrow.

“I’m shit at relationships too,” Elia said, removing his finger. “The longest I dated anyone was two months and she dumped me because I talked about FIFA too much.”

“Is that supposed to shock me?”

“I’m just saying I’m not any good at this either.” Elia turned to face him on the couch. “But I like you. And I’d like to do what we just did again, in multiple locations around this apartment. Maybe even in the bedroom someday. But first, you gotta give me a chance.”

Sighing, Filippo didn’t reply for a moment. Usually, the guys were gone by now and he didn’t have to think about this kind of stuff. He didn’t have to think about Elia and how absurdly annoying he could be, how persistent, how fucking amazing he was at giving head. Filippo groaned despite himself.

“Okay,” he said finally, unable to stop his smile as Elia’s expression perked up immediately. “Text me in a few days and I’ll go out for coffee.”

The worst that could happen was they fell in love, got married, and adopted a ton of cats, he figured as Elia grinned at him and his stomach did a stupid little flip.

“A couple days is far away,” Elia said, tugging Filippo closer, hand wrapped around his bicep. “So in the meantime…”

Filippo couldn’t shake his smile as Elia kissed him. He never quite knew how he got himself into these things, but he didn’t totally hate it as Elia laughed and pulled him closer, arms twining around his neck and sinking into him.

*

FIN


End file.
